And Merlin Burned
by Jae's Stories
Summary: 'If the reveal went horribly wrong'. Warning for character death, angst, maybe OOC in some places.
1. Prologue

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC**

**This is my first ever published fanfic, so I'm extremely nervous *bites nails in anticipation***

**This will have ten chapters (well eight, plus a prologue and an epilogue), each chapter will be about 300 words long and they'll all follow a pattern.**

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Gaius fainted.

Gwen sobbed.

Leon scowled.

Elyan stiffened.

Percival stared.

Gwaine screamed.

Arthur grimaced.

And Merlin burned.


	2. Chapter 1 - Gaius fainted

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC**

**I felt like I should also post the first chapter, because the prologue is only about 15 words long...**

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Gaius had a strong stomach when it came to most things. He was, after all, court physician, and saw many an illness and injury during his long life. Men brought to him in the aftermath of battles, bearing the severest of wounds, half of their insides hanging out, blood covering every inch of flesh and groaning in agony. Women brought to him with childbed sickness, sweating with fever and convulsing so much their limbs acted as if possessed by a demon. Children brought to him – an outbreak of plague hitting the lower towns – pus filled boils dotted all over their tiny, innocent faces, and vomit the colour of mud splattered down their even tinier peasant clothes. When patients were brought to him, Gaius didn't as much as flinch, learning from an early age apprenticed to Camelot's previous healer that an adverse reaction to a patient would serve good to no one.

'_You will be careful, my boy, won't you?' A wrinkled brow creased in worry._

'_Of course.' A cocky smile grinned in return._

Those were the last words he spoke to his son in every manner but blood. Taking the boy in when he was but a young, foolish magician with little control over the enormous power he wielded Gaius considered one of the best and worst decisions he ever made. He always worried for the warlock, god knows how he worried, but the boy proved himself capable on numerous occasions. He was always okay. He always came back to him, sometimes barely in one piece, but he always came back. The worry he felt for him was nothing though, compared to the stone that firmly lodged in the pit of his stomach _that_ day. As dangerous as it was for a magic wielder to live in Camelot, Gaius never imagined it would end like this. Never.

Gaius had a strong stomach when it came to most things, but he welcomed the darkness that loomed as the world swam around him; the flames licking at his ward's feet.


	3. Chapter 2 - Gwen sobbed

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC**

**Here's the next chapter - the story's all written (I did it all in one go O_O) so the chapters just need some tweaking before publishing**

**A big thank you to my guest reviewer and to onceuponatime47, you have no idea how happy your comments made me.**

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Chapter 2

Since becoming Queen, Gwen had learnt to get a better hold over her emotions. The girl she barely recognised from a lifetime ago, the shy maidservant who cried over every little thing, was gone. When once she would weep like a child over something as trivial as a comment made about her dress from another maid – a maid she didn't even know the name of – she now sat atop the throne, stronger than ever. When Camelot found itself attacked, vicious mercenaries or undead armies wrapped around its borders, Gwen no longer huddled in the background with fear in her eyes. Gwen stood up to the oppressors, managed strategies with her husband, saw a makeshift hospital set up and oversaw the workings of the castle whilst the King and his knights fought battle with their attackers, all the while with a fierce determination in her eyes.

'_Will that be all, my lady?' A cocked eyebrow asked cheekily._

'_How many times? I'm Gwen and I'm still Gwen. No need for such formalities.' A cocked eyebrow responded defiantly._

Those were the last words she spoke to her one true friend. Gwen was so grateful for that day she happened across a gangly form locked in the stocks, coated in a collage of rotten fruit. She saw the way he stood up to Arthur, the way he made him a better man without even trying. That day she made a friend for life, or so she thought. They were supposed to grow old and still gossip about castle rumours when they were grey and cranky. He was so courageous, so brave and selfless she sometimes wondered if he were an angel or a saint, despite the teasing of the knights accusing him of being weak. He had been so brave _that_ day. As courageous as he was, Gwen never imagined he would have to be so strong. Never.

Since becoming Queen, Gwen had learnt to get a better hold over her emotions, but she let floods of tears slide down her face as the flames burned her friend's calves.


	4. Chapter 3 - Leon Scowled

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC  
**

**Next chapter - I'm so impatient I really don't have any sort of upload schedule, I'm just putting stuff up when I feel like it ^^**

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Chapter 3

After many years of service to the Pendragon regency, Leon thought he had perfected his stony expression. To be a knight, one must overcome fits of emotion and be seen as an emotionless leader. Leon knew this was one of the more important items any good knight should practise; if Leon looked worried, the younger knights, squires and servants too would worry. If he became upset after a disastrous battle, everyone would doubt his ability to make rational judgements on their next movements, in which Leon also included himself. Just like his father had taught him, 'a wall of no emotions maketh the knight'.

'_Could you help me with this speech? I want to speak passionately about the King but fear I do not have the eloquence to write such an honour.' The knight with sandy locks sighed._

'_As soon as I've done this list of chores. But I won't write too much, it might make the prat's head too big.' The servant with ebony tresses chuckled._

Those were the last words he spoke to his king's fellow protector. Leon had disapproved of the way the boy spoke to the then prince. Insolence would not be tolerated while he was a knight. It had taken him a while to truly notice and accept the odd relationship between prince and manservant. Even though the dark haired fool scolded his lord as if he were a child, the prince returned the banter with a smile. Leon had also not realised how fiercely loyal he was to Arthur until he had drunk from the poisoned goblet not long after being 'gifted' to him. This was what had made Leon trust the boy, as they shared a common passion to protect the King, even if it meant laying down their lives for him. He truly had put his faith in Arthur _that_ day. He should never have had to be protected from the one he was protecting. Never.

After many years of service to the Pendragon regency, Leon thought he had perfected his stony expression, but he couldn't help himself from scowling, something nagging in the back of his mind that this was inherently wrong, as the flames curled around his fellow protector's legs.


	5. Chapter 4 - Elyan stiffened

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC  
**

**I'm not sure I'm going to be able to post a chapter for the rest of today or tomorrow (damn exams) but I'll try.**

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Chapter 4

Elyan was someone who needed to move; needed to do. It was just who he was. His father had often chided him for wandering off outside whilst he was trying to teach him the difference in tools for when Elyan himself became a blacksmith. His sister had not forgotten her brother's trait when he had returned to Camelot, and she made sure to inform all those who were to serve the knight of his frustrations should he ever be made to sit still for more than five minutes, god forbid he should ever injure himself, but Gwen knew it came with the territory of being a knight. She had also informed Arthur and the other knights of this fact, should Elyan ever wander off during a pause in training.

'_Do you ever take a break? You always seem to be doing something.' The boy pondered incredulously._

'_I could say the same of you. No rest for the wicked.' The knight retorted mirthfully._

Those were the last words he spoke to his jokester friend. The king's manservant could cheer up even the dreariest of patrols. Whether it be his indignant banter with the king or through his general clumsiness, the boy always managed to put the biggest smile on Elyan's face. There was just something instantly likable about him, perhaps it was the way he made everyone feel welcomed no matter who they were. Elyan had felt excluded from some of his fellow knights when he'd first become 'Sir Elyan', they had ignored and sneered at him because he was merely a blacksmith's son; a nobody. The clueless servant had no idea how much his accepting smile or joyful words had eased Elyan's self-pity. He had lost his sense of humour _that_ day. He should never have had to lose that heart-warming smile or that joyous laugh, not the one that brought cheer to the entire castle. Never.

Elyan was someone who needed to move; needed to do, but for the first time in his life he felt his muscles stiffen and his body unresponsive to any command of movement as the flames snarled at his jester's knees.


	6. Chapter 5 - Percival stared

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC  
**

**I'm back, the exam went well, I don't have another for a few weeks, I posted another chapter... life is good. I can't believe we're over halfway with the story now O.O**

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Chapter 5

It was a habit of Percival's, staring sullenly at the ground. Ever since was a small child, even when there was nothing wrong with him and had no reason to carry such a sad expression, he stared at the ground with consternation on his face. His mother told him not to worry about it, not to care when the other village children teased; she said he always looked more like he was in thought rather than upset. Even aged twelve, he stood a head taller than her, and she'd laughed, telling him stories of how he would become a fearsome warrior with the demeanour of a monk. It was true, his mind and body contrasted starkly. His bulging muscles and terrifying height were intimidating to even the most seasoned fighter. However underneath his daunting exterior was a heart of gold even the most altruistic would envy. He became a knight to put his strength to good use – what better use than defending a good and worthy king?

'_You're too skinny, Arthur's chores haven't been keeping you away from eating again, has he?' A pensive look crossed the knight, worry in his eyes._

'_We can't all be great hulks of muscles like you.' A flippant expression crossed the warlock, laughter sparkling in his eyes._

Those were the last words he spoke to his caring comrade. Percival hadn't made friends easily growing up, and it hurt when people were often wary of him due to his size. But the boy hadn't once flinched, nor eyed him cautiously, nor said a bad word about the giant, and for this he was extremely grateful. He admired the servant greatly, he was so kind to everyone, he never once judged or commented about someone, never spoke ill of people behind their backs, never saw anything but the good it people. Not every man could do that, of course the knights had teased him about having the feelings of a _girl_, but Percival knew that the lanky lad was a better man than any of the knights because of it. It was his selflessness and hope to see the good that caused what happened _that_ day. He should never have been put in that position because of something he couldn't control. Never.

It was a habit of Percival's, staring sullenly at the ground, but he couldn't take his eyes off the orange glow as the flames consumed his friend's stomach.


	7. Chapter 6 - Gwaine screamed

**A/N: ****I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC**

**Sorry guys, I know I've been AWOL for a couple of days, I just couldn't get the tone and wording right for this, so I've edited it quite a bit from the original that I wrote. We're getting to the 'emotional' chapters - Gwaine, Arthur and Merlin himself. It's not going to be pretty...**

**I'd like to thank every person that's followed this story and taken an interest, and a massive thank you to everyone who's reviewed - I'm so excited I swear I have a heart attack every time I see an email with a review.**

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Chapter 6

Not one to ever stay quiet, Gwaine knew his fair share of curses. Countless bar fights, fights with unpaid landlords, fights with fathers of pretty girls, and just general fights, had taught him a variety of words that would make his poor mother faint at the mere knowledge her son knew such filth. He had an honourable streak of course. He may be a drunk, granted often a penniless, homeless drunk, but he knew what was right and wrong. He knew not to curse in front of ladies and to not curse those who didn't deserve such harsh, cruel words. Even in one of many of his drunken stupors, Gwaine kept the worst insults for only the worst of people.

'_Five minutes we've been back! What in god's name happened to you?' A knowing grin ghosted over the clean shaven boy's lips._

'_The tavern, my friend. It's always the tavern.' An unashamed smirk swamped over the shaggy knight's lips._

Those were the last words he spoke to his best mate. From the moment he met the cheeky raven-haired servant, Gwaine knew he'd found himself a true friend. He hadn't known anything like their friendship before, everyone else passed him off as some useless inebriate. The prince's manservant had joined in a bar fight with him, tended his wounded leg, brushed off his hungover grumble and after all that still tried to convince him to become a knight. He had no idea what his mate had seen in him that no else ever had, but he was eternally glad that he had. In Camelot, Gwaine had found his family, they were a ragtag mix of a family sure, but he knew that without the boy's insistent friendship that he would still be nothing more than a drifting drunk. His friend was so unique, he'd never met anyone so pure, innocent, loyal, brave, trustworthy… Gwaine could go on for hours reeling off everything that made him so special. Arthur didn't deserve someone as extraordinary as his best friend, and he voiced that opinion often after raucous nights in the tavern. Arthur was an idiot for treating his manservant the way he did, even though Gwaine knew most of it was harmless banter, he saw the hurt in the boy's eyes to be called useless several times over, relentlessly. But that was nothing compared to the absolute despair he'd seen in his mate's eyes _that_ day. He should never have died. Never.

Not one to ever stay quiet, Gwaine knew his fair share of curses, and an entire dictionary's worth were being flung at the King of Camelot right now, staring him down even though the mere sight of his lord revolted him, his heart heavy with agonising pain and grief and hurt as the flames danced an elegy around his brother's neck.


	8. Chapter 7 - Arthur grimaced

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC  
**

**Woo, we're getting pretty close to the finish line now - one more chapter and the epilogue left (hopefully they'll be uploaded together as the epilogue is as short as the prologue.)**

**Thanks to all my new followers and people who've favourited this.**

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Chapter 7

Since his birth, Arthur had been taught to hide his emotions. His father had intrinsically instilled into him that a true king never shows weakness. To Uther, emotion equalled weakness, something Arthur highly disagreed with. However his father's voice constantly hounded his thoughts, whatever he did. It was always there; putting him down, _judging_ him. _This is not how I taught you. You should be better._ Everything he had done would be considered wrong in his father's eyes, from his marriage to Gwen, a serving girl with nothing to offer Arthur but her heart, to his appointment of common born knights with the bravery and loyalty of a thousand nobles. Arthur had tried so desperately not to be his father, despite spending over twenty years of his life doing everything he could in an effort to please him.

'_How could you? After everything we've been through, how could you?' The elder brother's voice quivers with emotion, tears barely held back._

'_It is because of everything we've been through. Everything was for you. Always.' The younger brother's voice holds strong, despite the sobs caught in his throat._

Those were the last words he spoke to his manservant, his idiot, his best friend, his _brother_. There was something about the big eared serving boy, Arthur had noticed it the moment they met. Perhaps it was how he spoke to the prince, in a manner that no else dare. Or perhaps it was because he had saved Arthur's life, pushing him out of the path of a dagger hurtled at his head, despite barely knowing the prince. Arthur had never had a friend like his servant; so witty, so loyal, so incredibly insufferable he made the King want to scream in frustration. He was always there, no matter what happened, his idiot would always be there, unscathed (for the most part) and grinning. And now he knew why. Had all of it been a lie? Had every wisecracked joke, every playful push, every meaningful conversation meant nothing to the sorcerer? Arthur had had no choice; the boy was a sorcerer and he had magic. Magic was evil. It always had been and always would be. Right? God he had so much guilt it _hurt_. His heart felt as if it had been shredded into tiny pieces; a sword to his stomach would have been less painful. Why did he feel this for a sorcerer? Was it only because the betrayal had hurt him so deeply? _Or maybe because he knew his friend, knew he would never hurt him, ever._ No. He couldn't think like that. Had the sorcerer twisted his mind so that he was beginning to doubt himself in such a manner? He repeated his father's teachings over and over in his head, to do nothing if quell his guilty conscious whilst his brother languished in the cage specially built for those like him so many flights below (_God how the man had looked so broken_). He did the same as dawn broke, as he forced himself to adjust to a new manservant-less life. He wouldn't take on another servant, _couldn't_. Arthur would never be able to erase _that_ day. He should never have had to send the one person he believed would be there until the end to the pyre. Never.

Since his birth, Arthur had been taught to hide his emotions, but right now he was struggling to stay calm, his kingly disposition ebbing away as the guilt was etched onto his strong features and his stomach threatened to repel its contents every few moments as his other half drew his final haggard breath.


	9. Chapter 8 - And Merlin burned

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC  
**

**This is it guys - the final chapter. I thought about waiting until tomorrow but it's finished and I'm impatient.**

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Chapter 8

Merlin feared little, he feared the death of Arthur, he feared the fall of Camelot, but most of all he feared fire. Every burnt sorcerer's anguished screams haunted Merlin, not knowing if he was to be the next. He would often wake in a cold sweat, their voices torturing him. _You were too late Emrys! You didn't save us._ Everyone he couldn't save plagued his every waking thought and often his nightmares. Be it a nameless, faceless sorcerer: a crying healer or an orphaned child, or those closest to him: Will, Freya, Lancelot and Balinor. In his torment he would scream hopelessly at the universe. Why was this thrust upon him? He never chose this! He only wanted a simple life, like the knights had, like Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius had. He hated the pain, hated the fear. He hated lying to those closest to him. Why couldn't he just be normal? He felt that this was why he had sympathised so when Freya had confided in him. Merlin knew something about being cursed.

'_I'm sorry.'_

Those were the last words he spoke, addressed to no one and everyone. His guardian, for letting him down, his Queen and the knights, for not being able to confide his secret in any of them, but most of all to his King. There were no words that could sum up his suffering of having to lie every single day to the man he considered his brother, his other half. The decision to save Arthur from a potentially fatal arrow soaring towards his head had been easy, even though he knew revealing his magic so openly in front of the King would spell the end of Merlin, but it was his life for Arthur's, always. He'd allowed himself to hope in some dark corner of his mind that Arthur was ready to know his secret. The look in Arthur's eyes told him everything he needed to know. The King clearly wasn't ready, although Merlin was beginning to think he may never be, if he wasn't by now. Above everything though he hoped that Arthur knew none of it was a lie. He had meant every moment he spent being the King's manservant. Every wisecracked joke, every playful push, every meaningful conversation. Merlin hadn't held any anger towards Arthur, not once. Not when his glassy eyes pierced Merlin's heart like a knife, not when he yelled for the knights on patrol, not when they'd run in to Gwaine who had to be restrained lest his anger get the better of him. Not when the guards had put him in the one place he really, really did not want to go, _(how does this place even still existence?)_ Not even when dawn broke as he forced himself to allow being dragged unceremoniously to the pyre. He had passed by the knights, sat miserably in their tiny cell, clearly locked up to prevent any attempts to assist Merlin, everyone knew they would if they could. He couldn't bear to meet their gazes, though he knew they were angry. He wrongly assumed that their anger was aimed towards him, when in reality, Arthur's knights could not believe their King would send his best friend to his death. Though Merlin couldn't help but let the smallest glimpse of a smile tug on his lips as Gwaine called to him, only love and painful acceptance clear his voice, no trace of anger or hate towards the warlock. _(See you in the tavern in the sky, mate.)_ As much as he tried though, Merlin couldn't escape his fear of _this_ day. He never wanted to burn. But he would never hate Arthur for this. Never.

Merlin feared little, he feared the death of Arthur, he feared the fall of Camelot, but most of all he feared fire, however he did not scream, or shout, or beg, not even as he burned.


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC  
**

**Ok, we're done. Finito. Thank you to everyone who's supported me during this story, what started off as revision procrastination turned out to be something I was so proud of I actually posted it. Please let me know if you liked it, what you enjoyed most, what I can do to improve etc. I've never had anyone other than my English teachers read my creative writing so this is a new experience getting feedback. I'm not done posting fanfiction either. As they say, this is just the beginning.**

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Epilogue

Gaius healed.

Gwen ruled.

Leon patrolled.

Elyan polished.

Percival trained.

Gwaine drank.

Arthur cried.

And Merlin burned.


End file.
